Yellow Butterfly
by Kunoichi21
Summary: Inuyasha and Kagome are in modern times. They had a child and have a happy life. But what happens when one drop of pain taints that life? Inspired by Meg and Dia's song Yellow Butterfly. Please read and review.


DISCLAIMER: The title Yellow Butterfly belongs to Meg and Dia. I do not own it. I do own this story, which was inspired by the song it is named after.

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Today was no normal day. My little girl was turning five today, so I took her to her favorite place. It was a jade green haven with a canopy of leaves and a flowing river that gave a pure aura around it. There were daffodils and dandelions all around and it was simply gorgeous. I was counting the daffodils, seeing if there were enough to pick and bring home to my husband. Suddenly I heard a scream and something plunge into the water.

I rushed over and crashed down on my knees, scraping them through my jeans. Panic riddled my every move and action, and I searched desperately for her sweet, angelic face. I was in shock, so it didn't really hit until I was unable to find her. I screamed at the top of my lungs and sobbed. Why her? Why in this place? I couldn't figure out what I had done to deserve having my little girl taken from me so shortly after she'd been given.

I contemplated jumping in the river myself. But then I realized that my husband would probably hate me for giving up so easily and not staying to help him through this grief. So, I sobbed even harder. I couldn't stop the flow of tears that ran like rain down my face. Since I knew the tears wouldn't stop, I found just enough strength to heave myself off the ground and get myself home, where I knew my husband would be in so much pain. I hated having to be the one to tell him the news.

People on the sidewalks gave me strange looks full of pity and concern, but I just passed silently through them all. My home came into view, now looking as solemn as I felt. It would no longer be a home without that sweet smiling face that rivaled even the sun in its brightness. My heart sank even further as I approached the house. I could feel the hysteria building up in my chest again.

I passed through the front door and found my husband in the kitchen, putting the final touches on her birthday cake. He didn't hear me come in. I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He smiled when he turned around, but that smile disappeared and was replaced with an appalled look. He took in my appearance with my tear streaked face and blood on the knees of my jeans where it had soaked through. A silent conversation passed between us, and I could see the understanding in his eyes. He knew now.

He fell down to his knees and the pain wracked his body. He shook and sobbed as I had in the meadow and I joined him, letting the hysteria out. It was choking, suffocating me. I struggled to breathe. I don't know how long we stayed like this, but when he finally looked up at me again, I saw nothing but hate and betrayal in his eyes. They said that it was my fault, that I could have prevented it from happening, and I was shocked. The tears still fell down his face from those anger filled eyes and he stood and walked down the hallway to our bedroom, where he locked the door.

It hurt so much that he thought I was the one who did this. I had no more room for all this pain. I lay on the linoleum floor of the kitchen for what felt like an eternity. My eyes conveyed the pain I felt, but I could cry no longer. My tears had dried up and I had no more. I heard a luggage case rolling on the hardwood out to the garage. A car started and drove off, my husband inside it. I was truly alone. It felt like a knife had been plunged into my chest. It felt like someone was taking that knife and twisting it, turning it painfully in my heart.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Five years have passed since then. I'm now divorced and as lonely as ever. I cried myself to sleep every night and every Monday, I went to that spot where I had spent the last happy moments of my life with my baby. I hated this place, but I didn't. She loved it, even though it had taken her from me, so I didn't truly hate it.

I still hear that scream, haunting me, chilling me to the bone. It lingers there, and I feel even guiltier that I let it happen. This place taunts me, laughs at me, points its jagged fingers and says that I'm a horrible person. It stays looking exactly as it did that day, with the sun shining brightly through its canopy.

It sends me spiraling even further into depression, and there's nothing I can do to help myself. I'm dead on the inside, and really, I don't want to do anything but see that smiling face again. My ex husband won't talk to me, or even associate himself with me now. He hates me because he still thinks it's my fault.

September comes and I die inside again. The fateful day follows the start of the month, and it makes me sick. I glance out the window by my bed, and I see her running through the yard, chasing a butterfly. I know it's not real, and that realization stabs me, deeper than I thought possible. It causes more unbearable pain, and robs me of my tears. I run out of them again, and I still cry tearless sobs. Every tear that goes unshed is a new cut on my arm, adding itself to the intricate pattern and criss-cross of scars. I do this every night, any time I feel like I'm being shot, torn to pieces by this pain.

The wind blows outside and it whispers her name as it passes me. I quiver with the guilt that wants to be set free, that wants to claw itself out of me. It flows out of me with my blood, that now stains almost every aspect of my life in some way. How do I stop it? How do I get rid of it? I don't know.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

It's winter now, the roads are slightly frozen over in some places, and snow covers the ground. I need to go to the store to get groceries, since I ran out of food at the house again. I'm on the way to town, and I have to cross over a lake to get there. I hit a spot of black ice and it sets my car on a path towards the water below. I end up breaking the guardrail and I'm plunged into the icy depths.

I'm jolted back and forth, and I hit my head on the steering wheel. It sends me into unconsciousness, and her smiling face visits me again. She stays with me for some undetermined amount of time. When I finally wake up again, I'm in a bed, in some sterile room with machines and beeping surrounding me.

A man in a white coat comes to my room and tells me that it's been about two months since I came to the hospital. He tells me what happened and that I'm very lucky to have survived. When he asks me if I need anything, I tell him that I just want to see her face once more. He looks at me like I'm crazy, and tells me to get more rest. He walks out of the room, writing something down.

A few hours later, a nurse comes in with some medicine and food. She injects the medicine in a tube that runs in me, somewhere. I push the food away, and the nurse takes it back. She leaves me in my silence, where the pain festers inside me, tearing up my already shredded heart. Occasionally my doctor passes by my room and finds me looking out the window, searching the skies for any sign of my little girl.

He sighs and walks away, figuring out that there's nothing that he can do to help me. I think back on how much she loved that place that took her from me so suddenly. I close my eyes as I think, and I still see her by the river, with joy etched in her features. She turns around and smiles at me. I bet this is what Heaven is like to her. That river flows gently, and it looks so peaceful.

As I rest, the beeping fades into the background, and then gradually stops. I finally stand next to my little girl, and I clutch her to my chest, like I've wanted to for so long. I cry tears of happiness, finally being able to have her with me again. She asks why I'm crying, and I tell her that it's because I can hold her. She wipes a tear off my face and tells me she loves me. I look at her angelic face, surrounded by pure blonde ringlets and tell her that I love her too.

We sit next to each other on the ground, surrounded by daffodils and dandelions, and she tells me a story of all the times she chased butterflies while she waited for me. For the first time since that fateful day, I smiled. I finally had her back.


End file.
